1823.] 
pours forth against it but half its holy fo- 
rest-devils, all is over. 
Momus.—Never mind it, Serapis; who 
will presume to touch thy image, when it 
is notorions at Alexandria, that at the 
least profanation which a sacrilegions 
hand might attempt, heaven and earth 
would crumble to pieces, and all nature 
sink back into chaos? 
Quirinus.—We cannot always depend 
on these things, my. good Serapis. It 
might happen to thee as to the golden 
statue of the goddess Anaitis at Zela, of 
which it was believed that the first who 
should lay hold of it would at once be 
smitten paralytic to the ground. 
Serapis.—And what happened to this 
image? 
Quirinus.—When the triumvir Antonius 
had beaten Pharnaces near Zela, the 
town and the temple of Anaitis were 
plundered, and no one knew what became 
of the goddess of massy gold. After some 
years, it chanced that Augustus supped at 
Bononia with one of Anthony’s veteran 
soldiers. The emperor was heartily wel- 
comed; and the conversation at table 
turning upon the battle of Zela, and the 
pillage of Anaitis’ temple, he enquired of 
his host, as an eye-witness, whether it 
were true that the first who laid violent 
hands on her was suddenly struck dead. 
** You see the rash man before you, (said 
the veteran,) and have feasted on one of 
the legs of the goddess. I had the good 
Inck to catch hold of her first. Anaitis is 
avery easy sort of personage, and I ac- 
knowledge, with gratitude, that to her I 
owe the competency I possess.” 
Serapis.—This is cold comfort, Quirinus. 
If the world goes on as Mercury reports, 
I cannot promise a better fate to my co- 
lossus at Alexandria. It is quite pro- 
voking that Jupiter can look on so calmly 
at such misdeeds. 
Jupiter.—It were well, Serapis, if thou 
didst thesame. Fora god from Pontus, 
thou hast enjoyed long enough the honour 
of being adored from the east to the west, 
and canst hardly expect it to fare better 
with thy temples than with mine; or that 
thy colossal statue should last longer than 
the divine masterpiece of Phidias. Be 
content to let another inherit thy strew- 
ings of palm-leaves. If we must all go, 
thou canst not think of remaining upright 
alone. 
Momus.— Ho! ho! Jupiter; where, 
then, are thy boasted thunderbolts, that 
thou bearest so patiently thine overthrow ? 
Jupiler.—Witling, if I were not what I 
am, I would reply with one of them to this 
silly question of thine. : 
Quirinus to Mercury.—Thou must. tell 
me all this over again, Hermes, if I am to 
believe it. My flamen abolished, my 
temple shut, my festival no longer ob- 
served! And are the enervate, servile, 
Wieland, concluded. 
125 
unfeeling, Romans sunken to this degree 
of ingratitude toward their founder? 
Mercury.—Ji were deceiving thee to 
give any other information. 
Victoria.—Then need I not ask what is 
become of my altar and my image in the 
Julian court. It is so long since the Ro- 
mans have unlearned to congner, that I 
think it natural for them to bear impa- 
tiently the presence of my statue. At 
every glance which they cast onit, they 
must feel as if it reproached them with 
their shameful degeneracy. With Ro- 
mans, whose very name is become among 
the barbarians a word of reproach, Victoria 
has Do more to do. 
Vesta.—If that be the case, J am sure 
they will not keep alive the sacred fire in 
my temple. Just heavens! what will be- 
come of my poor virgins? 
Mercury.—O, not a hair of their heads 
will be touch’d, venerable Vesta: they 
will be suffered very quictly to starve. 
Quirinus.—How times alter! Once it 
was a great misfortune for the whole Ro- 
man people, if the sacred fire on the altar 
of Vesta went ont. 
Momus.—And now a great deal more 
noise would ensue, if the profane fire of a 
Roman tavern were to go out, than if the 
vestals let out their’s twice a-week. 
Quirinus.—But who is to be the patron 
of the state in my room? 
Mercury.—St. Peter, with the double 
key, has obtained this office. 
Quirinus.—St. Peter with the double 
key ! and who is he? 
Mercury.—I myself do not rightly know: 
ask prophet Apollo. 
Apollo.—He is a man, Quirinus, who by 
his successors will govern half the world 
for 800 years; although he was only a 
poor fisherman. 
Quirinus.—How ! is the world to be go- 
verned by fishermen? 
Apollo.—By a certain class of them, the 
fishers of men, who, in a very ingenious net 
called the Decretals, will by degrees catch 
all the nations and princes of Europe. 
Their commands will pass for divine ora- 
cles, and a piece of sheep-skin, sealed with 
St. Peter’s fisher’s ring, will have the 
power to make and unmake kings. 
Quirinus.—This St. Peter with his dou- 
ble key must be a master-wizard. 
Apollo.—Very far from it. The most 
surprising things in the world always take 
place, as thou shouldst long ago have 
known, in the most simple and natural 
manner imaginable. The avalanche, which 
overwhelms a whole village, was at first 
but a little snow-ball; and a stream that 
floats a fleet is originally a trickling rill. 
Why should not the followers of this Gali- 
lean fisherman have been able, in a course 
of centuries, to make themselves masters 
of Rome, and finally of half the world, by 
means of a new religion, of which they be- 
came 
